


It's Not Really My Birthday

by going rogue (onlyastoryteller)



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, No Drama, No seriously this is just fluff, You might need insulin afterwards kind of fluff, fluffiest of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/going%20rogue
Summary: Tim wants to play a game of pretend but Armie has other ideas.





	It's Not Really My Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookingforatardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/gifts), [creativeandunique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativeandunique/gifts).



> Happiest of birthdays to two of the loveliest of ladies. I'm so grateful we've become friends.
> 
> Warning: This is so saccharine you might go into sugar shock. Just think of it as a large slice of cake with piles of frosting.
> 
> All fiction, probably.

“It’s my birthday.”

Tim whispered it into the hollow of Armie’s throat, his lips tickling the sensitive skin there. Armie smiled.

“It is not. Your birthday was months ago. We ran off to the islands together, remember?”

“Shhhh.” Tim nuzzled closer. “We’re pretending.”

Armie dropped his voice to a whisper. “Okay,” he said. “What are we pretending?”

“That it’s my birthday and you have a special surprise for me.”

Armie hummed and ran his fingers down Tim’s spine, enjoying the tiny shiver it caused. “What’s the surprise?” he asked.

“How am I supposed to know? It’s a surprise for me.”

Armie felt Tim smiling a challenge against his neck and rolled his eyes. “Well,” he said, “Get ready, then.”

Tim giggled and tensed. He was probably expecting to be tickled or tackled or both. It was the type of game they usually played, after all. This time, however, Armie had something else in mind.

He released Tim and rolled out of bed.

“Hey,” said Tim, “where are you going?”

“To get your surprise,” Armie called over his shoulder. He strode from the room without bothering to grab clothes. It was his apartment, after all. No one else was there but them.

He heard a huff behind him and grinned. Tim liked to pretend to relinquish control and be at Armie’s mercy, but he didn’t like it when it actually happened. Armie wondered how long he would have before Tim’s curiosity got the better of him and he followed.

Hearing the bed springs creak, he decided he didn’t have long. He dug the package he was looking for out of the back of the hall closet where he had stashed it a week earlier and returned to the bedroom.

Timmy was sitting up in the bed, the blankets pooled around his waist, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked so soft and tousled that Armie paused in the doorway to just look for a moment. All that exposed ivory skin, the lean muscles, the long neck, the crooked teeth...it was all _his_ and most of the time he could barely believe it.

“What is that?” asked Tim, nodding toward the bag in Armie’s left hand.

“Your surprise,” said Armie. Tim’s brow furrowed.

“But...it’s not my birthday,” said Tim.

“Shhhh,” said Armie, crossing the room in three strides and sliding onto the bed facing Tim. “We’re pretending.”

“But how did you—”

“Shut up and open it, idiot,” said Armie. He held out the small navy blue bag by its twisted paper handles. Tim reached out and scooped it up, their fingers brushing momentarily. His eyes were wide but excited. Armie loved giving him things, because he was always so delighted at even the _idea_ of a gift that it almost didn’t matter what the gift was.

Carefully, Tim peered inside the bag and pulled out a small navy box. He glanced up at Armie, and Armie nodded, encouraging him to keep going.

Tim traced his slim fingers around the edges of the box, then lifted the lid and gasped. He pulled out a delicate silver chain with a small silver disk and held it up so it glinted in the light.

“I love this,” he said. “I...this is beautiful.”

“Look more closely,” Armie murmured. He reached out and caught the little disk, turning it so it laid flat on his palm.

Tim leaned in and squinted. There, on the disk, in faint engraving, were the letters “A” and “T” intertwined.

“Armie,” whispered Tim. He looked up, his eyes shining. ““Seriously,” he said. “What is this for?”

“It’s for you,” said Armie.

“It’s not really my birthday,” Tim said. “I don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”

Armie opened his arms, and Tim untangled himself from the blankets and crawled onto Armie’s lap. He tipped his head back for a kiss, and when they broke apart, Armie tucked a finger under Tim’s chin and looked down at the best gift life had ever given him.

“Every day with you is a celebration.”


End file.
